


Die Alone

by Ramenmustachio



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, As of now unfinished, Bipolar Disorder, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Gang Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 21:37:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3224330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ramenmustachio/pseuds/Ramenmustachio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian makes an earth-shattering discovery, Mickey deals with a pregnant wife, two polar worlds collide and old habits die hard. Rated M for sex and language. Multi-Chap (Disclaimer: don't own anything, all copyrights and whatnot go to their respective owners.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, gallavitchers.   
> This was the first fanfiction I ever wrote, and I have reposted it from my fanfiction page. It takes place right after Ian gets on the bus in Season 3 and takes off from there. I plan to continue this story when I get past my writer's block.

Chapter One

Ian smiled softly as his head thumped against the back of his maroon bus seat. The whole place reeked of exhaust and sweaty boys. He was finally free, he had managed to get out of the Southside. He tried to forget about Mickey, his indifference, his lack of love. Ian was going to be happy godammit, he was going to finally live. Suddenly this morning's events hit him like a ton of bricks.

" _Don't.." Mickey's voice scratched out, broken and choked up. Ian turned from where he was at the door and met Mickey's eyes. "Don't what?" He challenged, done with being the only one allowed to fucking feel at all. Mickey just stared back at him, lost, searching for the words that were dying on his tongue._

Tears suddenly sprang to Ian's eyes, wiping away his smile. He realized Mickey did care, knew that he had to care. But he wasn't gonna just be his bitch either. Mickey had to accept that he loved Ian, that he needed Ian as much as Ian needed him. That was the only way that Ian would ever be able to take him back. He was tired of "just fucking." He was ready to make love to Mickey, to kiss him, to sleep together, to go on dates, to watch movies. Suddenly these tears were more than just dewdrops. Now they turned into a torrential downpour, as his body was wracked with sobs.

"What the fuck faggot? You some kinda pussy?" The kid next to him blurted loudly. Ian flinched at the word. "Leave me alone." He managed to get out, trying to stifle his sobs. He felt like his heart was exploding, like his soul was collapsing. His skin felt icy cold and burning hot at the same time, his chest ached and it wasn't just because he was crying so hard. Ian couldn't stop the sobbing any more than the kid next to him could stop saying faggot.

"Hahah look at you little ROTC faggot, you gonna run home to your mommy? Gonna fucking piss yourself from your faggoty-ass crying, motherfucker? What a fucking loser." He said viciously, the other guys on the bus crowding to watch Ian's spectacle.

"Get me the fuck off this bus." Ian hissed quietly, crying still, but silently.

"What was that?" The guy growled.

Ian stood up and smashed the guy's head against the window and ran to the front of the bus. "GET ME THE FUCK OFF OF THIS FUCKING BUS OR SO HELP ME GOD I WILL CRASH IT!" He shouted, losing all control. Every time he blinked he could see Mickey's crying face painted on the backs of his eyelids.

"Jesus Christ kid, get off," The driver said, pulling over. The other guys on the bus just stared at him in shock, unable to fathom the fact that Ian had just seriously wounded another comrade. "Just so you know asshole," Ian said, standing there, "I _am_ a  faggot and I wouldn't fuck you if I had a million bucks." He walked off the bus and wiped the tears from his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

Mickey was sitting on his filthy unmade bed for what seemed like an eternity. He just stared at his Nazi-less wall, (the fucking bitch tore down his posters) and felt his eyes gloss over with tears. None fell before he could wipe them away, but Mandy would never know that what she had said to him was killing him. _"That's really all you're gonna say to him? You're a fucking pussy!"_ Her words echoed inside of him because he knew they were true. He _was_ a pussy, he should have said more to Ian, should have just kissed him or begged him not to go or do anything to make him stay. Mickey couldn't help feeling like he was a fag thinking such sappy stuff, but he couldn't stop himself.

What was making this whole situation worse was the fact that Mickey knew Gallagher left because of him. This was his entire fault, and if Gallagher got his ass shot off in Afghanistan, it would be his fault too. Mickey got up and punched a hole through the wall, desperate for a fight, for a fuck, for something to make his blood race. Mickey was too close to crying to get into a fight; he didn't wanna look like a pussy. So that meant he needed a fuck. Ian was obviously gone, and since he had had a taste of Gallagher dick he didn't want any girls. Svetlana was out selling herself, so he couldn't exercise his matrimonial rights. Sighing in despair and frustration, he decided his hand would have to do.

Mickey sat down once again, using his uninjured hand to slowly jerk himself. _"She's gonna fuck the faggot out of you kid, and you're gonna watch."_ Mickey's eyes flew open and his hand jumped off his dick like it was on fire. What the fuck? The flashback slammed into the forefront of his mind like a speedboat.

_She climbed on top of him; he was too weak and too broken to push her off. He couldn't look at Gallagher, couldn't look at his dad, and couldn't look at her tits, so Mickey just looked at nothing. He felt his eyes glaze over as she placed his limp penis inside of her. He almost threw up at her sudden upward thrusts, so he did everything to shut it out. There was no way he could get out of this without getting hard, so he tried to force himself. He thought about Ian's smile, the way his lips pull back like curtains and his pearly whites shine out. The way Ian's hipbones feel under his hand. He thought about countless blowjobs, the feel of stubble between his legs, the feel of Ian inside of him, the feel of Ian's eyes checking out his ass or his abs when he thought Mickey wasn't looking. Mickey began to grow hard and concentrated on the feeling. He flipped Svetlana down and pretended she was Ian, pretended this was a new game where he was a top and Ian was a bottom. He made himself come as fast as possible, but he didn't miss the groan of disgust and sadness that Ian emitted when he did. The house was silent now that the wet sounds of their flesh meeting and the soft muffled grunts were gone._

Mickey snapped back to reality and it felt like there was a heavy stone sat on his chest, and suddenly there was an unbearable need building up in his throat. He began to sob, uncontrollably, forcefully, and desperately. He was so loud that Mandy came running into his room, terrified Terry had come back and fucked him up.

"Mickey where is… shit." She said, standing in the doorway, her mouth open. Mickey wanted to stop being a pussy, especially in front of the girl who had called him one, but his tears just wouldn't stop. Mandy walked in and sat on the bed next to him, ignoring his open fly and his slightly exposed penis. She didn't touch him; she knew full well that Mickey never wanted physical contact, especially when he was upset. She just sat there next to him, not looking at him as he had his moment.

"Mickey, he's gone." Mandy whispered, not in a bitchy way, but in a painfully honest way. Mickey was reminded that although he had lost his…boyfriend (he cringed at the word, but that's what Gallagher really was to him,) Mandy had lost her best friend. She didn't have Lip anymore, so Ian had been her closest thing to a companion. This made him feel even worse.

"I fucking know." He spat out, hiding his true feelings as he wiped his tears away. Mandy knew him too well, so she knew that this was just a façade. "It's just..." He stopped, staring upwards for guidance but finding none.

"What?" Mandy pressed, placing her hand on his wrist.

Mickey wrenched his eyes towards her face and stared at her desperately.

"He's gonna fucking die alone." He said, and his words echoed around his broken home.


	3. Chapter 3

Die Alone: A Shameless Fanfiction

Ian and Mickey

Chapter Three

It had been a week since Gallagher left. Mickey was standing in his kitchen, which smelled vaguely of tequila and meth, eyes aimed towards the suspicious brown stain on the ceiling when Svetlana walked in. She was starting to show, and it didn't help that she was in a crop top and bejeweled black booty shorts. Her makeup was smeared all over her face, causing her to look slightly disfigured. Her hair was still ratted from whenever the last time she took a bath was and she was holding a red bong.

"What the fuck are you doin'?" Mickey shouted, snatching the bong from her insipid and frail hand. She just looked at him, her large black pupils reflecting his rage back at him. Her eyes were bloodshot and glassy, and she rocked slightly from side to side. Her English wasn't wonderful, but she knew enough to understand and say most uncomplicated sentences. She almost never spoke to Mickey.

"You're fuckin' pregnant. You can't just fuckin' smoke all you want." Mickey said, trying to calm the bite in the back of his throat that was coming through. Mandy had told him that he was too mean to Svetlana, that his situation wasn't her fault, she told Mickey if he wanted to be a better person he should just try being nicer to his family. Mickey cringed internally at the use of that word: family. Mickey didn't have a family, didn't deserve one. His drug addict of a mom had OD'd when he was ten, everyone knew what a shitty dad Terry was, his brothers only stayed at their house from time to time, (and that was just for the free food and booze.) Mandy was the closest thing he had to a family member, and she didn't seem all that fond of him.

But this whore in front of him certainly wasn't his family, Mickey thought. He felt kinda bad for her, secretly. She was forced into this marriage just as much as he was, and her pregnancy certainly hadn't been planned. She was from a foreign country and was basically a full on hooker. She mostly did handies and blowjobs, but her ties with Terry's gang led Mickey to believe that she wasn't a stranger to full-on fucking. But regardless of all this, Mickey was no fuckin saint and he didn't have to put up with her shit.

"Listen bitch," he said, grabbing her arms. "You aren't gonna fuck up my kid. I didn't want it, but that doesn't mean it deserves what you're doin' to it. If I catch you smokin' or boozin' you're gonna wish you hadn't married me." And with that, Mickey turned on his heel and stormed out of the house, hearing the front door slam shut on his broken home.

* * *

 

Ian was staying at a cheap motel just outside of Southside. He hadn't had the heart or the balls to go home, didn't wanna face Lip's heartbreak over Karen, or Fiona's rage. Ian figured it was time for him to move out anyways; he just couldn't take the noise and clutter anymore. He knew it cost them all money when he was home; water, electric and food costs would be lower with one less person in the house. His measly income from the Kash N' Grab wasn't gonna cut it. Ian had enough money saved up to stay at his motel and eat at fast food places for about a week.

With a sigh, Ian decided it would be best for him to see if Linda would re-hire him after he bailed so fast. He could just tell her the truth: that he almost enlisted and decided not to, but he was sure she would see through it. Linda was too smart and too present in his work schedule to not notice how he and Mickey looked at each other. "Whatever." Ian thought, stubbing out his cigarette and pulling on a t-shirt.

On his long walk to the Kash N' Grab, Ian thought about _him._ Ian hadn't been able to get him off of his mind; Mickey was there every time he closed his eyes for bed and every time he opened them in the morning. Ian hadn't gone this long without sex in a long time, which seemed pretty pathetic, when he thought about it. A week wasn't a very long period of time at all, but Ian was used to getting laid or blown at least once a day. When Ian thought about it, he realized he hadn't really gone without for about two years. He had started with Kash when he was fifteen, met Mickey and they became fuckbuddies, and when the whole "snickers bar incident" happened, Ian did without for the period Mickey was in juvie. But then he had met Lloyd, so he was doing it with him and Mickey for a period of time. And then when he and Mickey got hot and heavy, there was only Mickey. Looking back on it, Ian realized he was a little bit of a man-whore.

He chuckled at his sexual escapades as he continued strolling through the Southside. You could always tell someone was from the South by their nonchalance when they were in it. Ian didn't even blink when he saw two homeless guys fighting over a porn magazine on the side of the road, or when he saw a woman get mugged at the ATM in front of him. These weren't alarming things to him; they were normal, almost homey things. The smell of dumpster juice and old cigarettes that seemed to penetrate the entire area like a thick smog brought back childhood memories for Ian.

Ian was still thinking about his sex life when he stopped at a bench to light up. Sucking the nicotine down into his young lungs, he though about the taste of Mickey. The second time they had kissed, Mickey tasted like Marlboros and cherry vodka. Even though they had only French-kissed once, Ian could remember every detail about that smooch.

I _an barged through the door, tears shining faintly in his eyes. Mickey stared at him, his hand; holding a lit cigarette, fell down to his side. Mickey stood in a cheap black rental tux, smirking slightly and radiating nervousness at Ian. Ian remembered absentmindedly thinking he had been pacing. The basement smelled like mothballs and old cheese, the fluorescent lighting not helping to make the dismal place look better._

_"You call me a punk for wanting a boyfriend or whatever, but you're gonna marry someone who screws guys FOR A LIVING?" Ian shouted, hurling all his anger and rage at Mickey with those words._

_"Who gives a shit, it's a fuckin' piece of paper." Mickey snarled back, hurt by Ian's hostility._

_"Not to me." Ian replied softly, feeling his heart constrict at the thought of Mickey standing before an altar._

_Ian turned, finally giving up on the fucked up man he loved so dearly. "I don't need this shit." He thought as he started to walk out._

_"Hey, c'mon!" He heard Mickey say behind him, panic rising._

_"Just 'cause I'm getting' hitched doesn't mean we can't still bang, okay?" Mickey said, and if Ian didn't know it, it sounded like there was desperation in his voice. Ian couldn't take this any more, couldn't take what this sad man behind him was doing to him. His anger all came hack, and as he turned to face his ex-lover, he began to think he hated him._

_"If you'd give half a shit about me." He spat, lumbering towards Mickey, towering over him. Mickey saw the flash of rage in his eyes and put his hand on his chest, defensively saying "Hey, hey hey!" Trying to get Ian to back off._

_"Half." Ian said softly, tears coming back. "Don't do this."_

_Mickey just searched his face for a minute, staring at him urgently. Suddenly, he pulled Ian into him and put his hand on the back of his neck as he captured his lips. His tongue slammed into Ian's and Ian felt his cock harden. Twisting their mouths together in a tangled massage, the two hurled themselves into the next room. Ian could taste blood on his lips, but couldn't tell if it was Mickey's or his own. They were always like this; getting their pleasure from their pain. Ian could feel the heat from his groin rising, flowing up to somewhere in the back of his throat. This kiss wouldn't be enough, not enough for him to just walk away. He felt Mickey's hard-on through the front of his slacks and pressed against it, getting a slight moan out of Mickey. Grinding their hips together expertly, Mickey started taking off his jacket, his mouth never leaving Ian's._

Ian threw his cigarette onto the ground, stubbing it out with the tip of his converse. He glanced down and blushed when he saw his own hard-on, desperately trying to get it to go back down. Ian hadn't been able to control his lust, and now it was getting worse. Just thinking about a kiss he had shared was getting him horny. Ian crossed the street to his old workplace, smiling fondly at the memories. He noticed the "back in five minutes" sign was up, so he walked around back. Still thinking about those passionate moments they had shared in the basement of the reception hall, Ian turned right to walk down the hallway.

"Linda, it's Ian," he shouted, walking into the store. His mouth dropped when he saw Lloyd bent over the counter with Mickey inside of him.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

**(One week earlier.)**

The bang of the door still rang in Mickey's ears as he trudged down his street, taking a right towards the rougher part of town. He needed a fight, needed to feel the crack of some unfortunate fuck's bones under his clenched fists. Mickey needed to beat a guy senseless or else he was going to do something he would regret. Mickey walked to his former employer Marcellus' house.

Marcellus was a big black dude with a patchy dark beard and a bald head. He always wore tinted sunglasses and dressed like a pimp. Although Marcellus did deal in pimping, he was most known for his meth dealing. From time to time when Mickey was broke, he would work for Marcellus; beating guys, torturing them, whatever was needed. Marcellus usually paid his lackeys with drugs or women, but he always gave Mickey cash.

BAM BAM BAM. Mickey's fists rapped against the metal grate in front of the large black door, disturbing the silence of the morning. The door swung open and Mickey was greeted with a shotgun pointed between his eyes.

"THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?" Shouted Marcellus, cocking the gun.

"Jesus dude, just wanted some work! Not here to fuck around with guns and shit!" Mickey replied irritably, annoyed that Marcellus would entertain the idea of him double-crossing him.

"Well c'mon in man, you're fuckin' loud! Thought for sure you was here to start shit." Marcellus said jokingly as he unlocked the grate and welcomed Mickey in.

Mickey scoffed as he wandered into the dilapidated old house, smelling very much like meth and cat piss. He tried to ignore the bloodstain on the carpet by the door, and how fresh it looked. In fact, Mickey was pretty sure it was still wet.

"You can help me take care of that." Marcellus said, jerking his head towards the stain. Mickey was surprised that he had been observant enough to see Mickey staring.

"You kill someone with that gun recently?" Mickey asked passively, plopping himself onto the worn and sticky leather couch in the room.

"Hah, you know me kid, I like to use knives! Guns are fuckin' useless unless you're in a tight situation." Marcellus chuckled, returning to the room with a bottle of whiskey.

"Figured you'll need this kid." He said as he tossed it to Mickey.

Mickey saluted sarcastically and chugged as much of the burning brown liquid as he could.

"So you need me to fuck some kid up?" Mickey inquired, settling back into the couch to talk business with his old partner.

"Yeah. This old fuck bought some E from me last week and dealt it at a gay bar. You know me; I only sell to the user, not for the market. Wouldn't have sold to no fuckin' fag if I knew he liked it up the shitter. Can't trust those fairies." Marcellus sniffed, ironically looking to Mickey for approval.

"Tell me about it." Mickey said softly, chugging some more of the whiskey.

"Fuck kid, I need ya conscious!" Marcellus said, swiping the bottle from him.

Mickey gave his best death glare but knew that Marce would see straight through it.

"So where can I find him?" Mickey asked, sitting on the edge of his seat, his leg jittering with the itch for a fight.

"Like I said, he's a rich motherfucker. Lives in some swanky penthouse in the city. Think that's where he takes his boyfriends or whatever."

"Which hotel?"

"Think it's the Wellesley. Already had a buddy of mine snatch a room key, he's in the #2 penthouse." Marcellus tossed a manila envelope to Mickey.

He opened it and found about a grand and a keycard for the room. Marcellus could pay Mickey before the job because he understood Mickey would still beat the shit out of the dude. Marcellus knew Mickey operated on bloodlust, not financial motivation.

"How bad do you want him fucked up? Kneecaps? Face? Ballsack?" Mickey asked, stuffing the cash back in the envelope and sealing it.

"Just break his kneecaps and give him my brand. Nothin' that strange, just scare him." Marcellus said.

Marcellus' brand was a small M carved into a man's navel with a thin scalpel. Mickey knew Marcellus would have slipped one into the envelope; he always did when he sent him on a job.

"Deal's a deal. Thanks for the drink." Mickey said over his shoulder as he walked out the door and headed for the El.

Mickey strolled into the Wellesley like he owned the place, knowing he was getting glares from everyone around him. He knew he smelled and looked like shit, his tank was smeared with sweat and week-old food. His hair was full of old caked gel and dirt, his jeans had holes all over them and his shoes had no laces.

Flipping off the receptionist, he strolled into a fancy elevator and hit the top button, riding the long way up in silence.

Once off, he jammed his hands in his pockets and strolled down a nicely carpeted and lit hallway. "The fuck does this guy think he is? He's going fag banging in clubs down in the South, he must think he's impressing all the poor little queers when he takes 'em to this spread."

Mickey stopped at number two, cracked his neck, knuckles and back; smirked and clicked the card in. The man had obviously just stepped out, because he wasn't there but all his shit was.

Mickey saw clothes strewn all over one corner of the room, the bed was wrinkled and had obviously been recently occupied by two men, judging from the jizz and condoms all over it.

"This guy is a fuckin' pig." Mickey said softly, walking towards the bathroom.

There was a brand new IPhone on the counter. He must've gone out for a smoke or something. Mickey picked up the phone and looked at it. He had never held one of these before, never actually used a touch-screen phone. Suddenly it dinged and a text popped up:

CHIP: **Hey Dad, have u heard from Jimmy**?

So this fucker was a father. Mickey figured out how to go back into this guy's inbox, see if there were any messages from "Jimmy." There weren't, but there was one contact that had a ";)" for the name. The messages seemed to be from a few months ago, since the ";)" was at the bottom of the inbox, Mickey's curiosity was piqued.

;): **Yo gramps, wanna get blown tonight?**

Must be this dude's boyfriend or something.

Mystery Dude: **Maybe I'll rattle my ass over to the club and stick my cock in a glory hole… will u be thre?**

***there.**

Ew. Mickey didn't wanna know what a "glory hole" was.

;): **Y don't u invite me over to your fncy pent? Mayb we can fuck on a rl bed?**

Mystery Dude: **We haven't done it in public in a while… :'(**

This guy was clearly twisted. Mickey was snickering.

;): **Will u take care of this plz?**

Mickey's jaw dropped. He was staring at a picture of a dick, a very hard dick. A giant dick. A cock that was surrounded by curly red pubic hair, manscaped and maintained impeccably. A penis that tilted slightly to the left when aroused, a penis that had been inside of him. He was staring at a picture of Firecrotch's dick.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Mickey looked up from the dull glow of the cell phone and felt his eyes pool with rage. He knew exactly whose apartment he was in; that fucking geriatric viagroid Lloyd. "Guess the ass whooping I gave him didn't stick." Mickey thought sinisterly before setting the phone back down onto the counter.

Quickly walking over to the shower and standing on the lip of the tub, Mickey quickly and efficiently tore the periwinkle shower curtain from its hooks and unscrewed the metal pole that it hung off of. Mickey had forgotten to bring his bat, but since he was known for breaking kneecaps, he needed an object. Mickey didn't have any more time, because he heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall.

Getting behind the bathroom door and grinning, Mickey waited.

A sigh came from outside the front door, some fumbling noises, the sound of keys being dropped, and then a slight cheer of victory.

"Must've lost his key card , the dumb fuck." Thought Mickey.

The doctor clicked in and stumbled around, knocking over some stuff. At this point Mickey figured out that he was most definitely drunk. Despite the buzz Mickey was feeling himself, (the whiskey) he knew that this would be a piece of cake. There was silence, and Mickey was just about to come out and fuck this old man's shit up, when the man himself stumbled into the bathroom and started to pee.

He was too far gone to even notice the shower curtain crumpled on the floor. Smirking, Mickey nudged the door so it slammed closed. He flipped the lock, gripping his metal pole in his tattooed fists as he approached Lloyd, who'd stopped pissing the second Mickey revealed himself. The doctor began to laugh at the ex-con.

"Fuck you." Mickey growled, right before he charged. The force of their bodies meeting propelled them backwards into the porcelain tub, fists and knees colliding. Mickey heard the clang of the metal rod as he tossed it behind him, laying his fists into Lloyd's face.

"Mickey..." He grunted in between punches.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU MOTHERFUCKER YOU FUCKING TOOK HIM FROM ME YOU FUCKING FUCKED HIM WHILE I WAS IN FUCKING JUVIE YOU FUCKING JERKED YOURSELF TO A PICTURE OF HIM YOU DON'T GET TO FUCKING SAY MY NAME GODAMMIT!" Mickey cried out, letting all of his hurt and rage pour out of him in one breath.

"I know. But he's  gone." Lloyd groaned.

Mickey sat back, awkwardly in between the man's legs. To his horror, Mickey started to cry. The tears were white hot and slippery, and before he could wipe them away they were pouring out of him. He jammed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to stop himself from being such a "fuckin' pussy in front of this old prick. "

Lloyd reached out a hand and put it comfortingly on Mickey's shoulder. Mickey still didn't make eye contact with this man, but was shocked to feel grateful for his touch. This wasn't right. Mickey should hate this man; hate the man that gave Gallagher a taste of a real relationship. This doctor gave Ian everything Mickey couldn't: money, affection, dates, fancy dinners and comfy beds, and he sure as fuck was a more stereotypical bottom than Mickey was. But right at this moment, Mickey just felt like crying on this man's shoulder. Mickey knew he couldn't do that, _wouldn't_ do that; but it didn't mean he couldn't appreciate the feeling of this man's hand.

Lloyd gently grabbed Mickey's hand and grunted as he stood. Swaying slightly, he pulled Mickey out of the tub with him and gingerly got over the porcelain barrier.

Lloyd directed Mickey to a large plush chair in the living room while he went over to the mini bar. As Mickey watched Lloyd down four mini vodkas, his brain flashed to the last time he'd seen the man.

_Gallagher was driving like the wind, sending the white van hurtling down the road. Mickey was bent over the center console, blood pouring out of the bullet wound while he screamed out a litany of curse words. Ian had his hand on his back, trying to comfort his fuckbuddy (boyfriend.) The van pulled up to a screeching halt in front of the house, and Ian and Iggy jumped out to grab Mickey. Creating a human seat for him, they placed Mickey in their interlocked arms as he moaned and carried him into the house._

_Mickey bent over the kitchen counter as Debbie's daycare kids ran amuck. Some of the kids were crying because Ian had unceremoniously pulled down Mickey's pants to look at the bullet wound. Mickey heard the door slam and he turned around to see none other than the dick who Ian was "sort of dating."_

_"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" He shouted at Ian, regarding Lloyd standing awkwardly in the background, clad in blue scrubs._

_"Stay there!" Lloyd said sternly, placing his medical kit on the counter._

_"AGH!" Mickey moaned as Ian came up behind him, still concerned._

_"JUST ONE FUCKIN' OLD LADY, HUH?" Mickey bellowed, furious that he had gotten shot for this fuckin' dickhead._

_"Oh Jesus." Lloyd sighed, but he quickly corrected his face when Ian shot him a dirty look._

_"Well," he continued, walking around Mickey with a sneer so that he could see him. "if it isn't the toughest badass fag-beater this side of the Chicago river…" He said, smirking at the boy who was in obvious pain._

_Mickey flipped him off while Ian looked on in horror. "FUCK OFF!" Mickey shouted, still flipping him the bird._

_Mickey was jolted back to reality when Lloyd drunkenly sashayed over to him, singing out his name in a very gay way. Lloyd's face was still bloody and now swelling from Mickey's beating._

"Serves him right." Mickey thought, instantly regretting their moment of tenderness.

Mickey was jerked from this thought process when a wrinkled hand was suddenly cupping his face. Mickey's blue eyes shot up with a ferocity he hadn't experienced. Lloyd's were bloodshot and glassy from his alcohol consumption, and he leaned in for a kiss.

"I don't fuckin' do that shit, faggot." Mickey said harshly, trying to remove the older man's hand from his face. Suddenly, Lloyd was straddling him; sitting in Mickey's lap with is feet dangling an inch off of the floor on either side of Mickey's spread legs.

The doctor looked up at Mickey pleadingly, and then suddenly thrust his hard on onto Mickey's denim-clad crotch. Instantly, heat spread through Mickey's whole body, and he shivered with delight. For a minute, Mickey closed his eyes and pretended the man on top of him was Firecrotch, that Ian came home and forgave him. Soon, Mickey's throbbing member was tenting his jeans and practically begging to be freed from the busting seams.

Lloyd giggled into his ear and whispered "Will you top?" seductively in his ear. Mickey kind of hated topping, it brought back memories of quick shower fucks in juvie. With a grunt, he removed his jeans quickly (he wasn't wearing any underwear, it was too irritating to his sensitive bullet wound.) Lloyd got out of his lap momentarily, removing his shirt and slacks quickly.

Lloyd grinned at him and then slowly pulled down his tight white briefs. His erect cock spilled out, bouncing slightly as it defied gravity. Mickey was surprised Ian would stay in a relationship with this guy, since he was a little small. Mickey knew Ian had a thing for guys with big dicks, glad that he was at least able to beat Lloyd in that department.

The man quickly climbed into Mickey's lap again, grinding their cocks together. Small or not, the man had obvious experience. Mickey gasped at the sudden contact and suddenly he wanted to fuck this man's brains out. But when he looked back up, he saw Ian's handsome face.

"Fuck you, Gallagher." He moaned, his dick twitching with need.

Suddenly, a purple condom was being rolled onto his hard cock, and lube was being massaged onto it. Mickey held out an anxious hand, waiting for some lube to be placed on his fingers. Once coated, he reached behind Ian  And forced his finger into his hole. Ian gasped as Mickey prepared him, moaning as he forced a second finger in and began stretching him, preparing him for his large girth.

Suddenly, he pulled his hand away and placed Gallagher on him. His Firecrotch rode him for all he was worth.

It was only when Mickey woke up with Lloyd on top of him that he realized what he'd done.

* * *

 

**One week later**

Mickey had to fight to get his old job back, but Linda eventually caved. Mickey still shuddered every time he went into the freezer, old memories flooding his melancholy brain. Mickey didn't think he'd been sober since Gallagher had left to go get shot. Right now Mickey was on some coke and about a bottle of whiskey.

Marcellus had been pissed that he didn't go through with the job, but he understood when Mickey "explained" it to him. Mickey just gave him some bullshit story about "the guy " having left without a trace when he walked into the room and that he found a dead hooker in the bathtub. Mickey said he put the hooker in the ground and left it at that. Marcellus had thanked him for his services and for getting rid of the body. Mickey was able to keep the grand and the scalpel for future employment. In reality, Mickey had been fucking Lloyd (who had switched to a different penthouse) every day for the last week.

It was surprisingly easy for him to just pretend that Lloyd was Ian, even though Ian was always a top.

"Mickey blue eyes!" Lloyd said enthusiastically as he strolled in like he fucking owned the place.

"Fuck you, asshole." Mickey muttered, biting into the last of his Snickers bar and getting up from his stool behind the counter. As he brushed past the doctor, he was grabbed by the older man and pulled into him.

"Well that's why I came." Lloyd whispered into his ear. Mickey could feel the man's arousal, amazed that a man of his age could get it up as frequently and quickly as he did. Then again, Mickey was pretty sure Lloyd was a sex addict. He remembered Ian telling him something once, saying that when he asked if Lloyd was gay he just said, "I'll fuck anything that moves."

"Hold your horses." Mickey said, breaking away and locking the door, flipping the sign. He felt Lloyd tug his pants down and he spun around to meet his eyes.

"Get the fuck over there, you're prepping yourself today." He said huskily, feeling his own arousal at the prospect of a good lay. The doctor sighed contentedly and bent himself over the counter, shoving down his own pants while he widened himself with his fingers.

"Good enough." Mickey grunted before he entered him. Mickey wasn't gentle with Lloyd; he never gave him time to adjust or did what he asked him to do. Mickey just closed his eyes and started slamming into him, never fully pulling out. It was a long, hard and selfish fuck. Mickey thought he heard Ian's voice, and that brought him closer to the edge, he kept on thrusting, barely hearing the cries of the man below him. Suddenly he distinctly heard Gallagher's voice calling out "… It's Ian."

Mickey screamed out "FUCK ME IAN" as he came, filling the doctor with his seed.

It was then that he heard a choked gasp and then felt a fist connect with his face.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Ian's fist ached as he stalked out of the store, his face turning redder than his hair. _What a fucking asshole! He fucking cheated on me, that cocksucker!_ It had started to drizzle lazily while Ian had been in the store, and now it was pelting down on him in big fat drops.

If he was being honest with himself, Ian guessed it wasn't the fact that Mickey had slept with another guy that bothered him (although it did.) It was the principle behind Mickey sleeping with Lloyd. Lloyd was the closest Ian had ever come to a real relationship, he was the man who introduced him to the ideas of being respected, taking things slow, and staying the night.

Ian was still walking, splashing through puddles and getting wet down to his bones when he heard a familiar voice.

"Ian!" Lip cried out behind him.

Ian looked up, and realized where he was. He had paced down to his old home, the Gallagher house. The familiar broken front gate and chipping white paint warmed his heart. He had walked right past it, and was now standing in front of Tony's house.

He looked at Lip, who was standing in disbelief on the front porch and felt his eyes well with sorrowful tears. He missed his brother; he missed _all_ of his family, even Frank. But this life had nothing left for him. He gave Lip a look, saluted him and kept on walking, his shoulders being wracked with sobs.

"DUDE!" Lip cried out, his sneakers making a wet smacking sound as the thumped across the wetted concrete behind him. A hand on his shoulder whipped him around and he fell into his brother's embrace. The two siblings stood there in the cool summer rain, one crying, and the other consoling, for what seemed like an hour.

* * *

 

**Back at the Store**

Mickey went down like a crashing plane, his cheek hitting the dirty and cold linoleum of the store.

"Was that…" Lloyd questioned, standing there with his pants around his ankles and looking at Mickey in shock.

"You mean you didn't fucking see the cocksucker who just punched me?" Mickey growled in annoyance and fear. He was annoyed because Lloyd had no concern for him, but he was afraid because whoever just hit him knew his secret. _Gotta fuckin' lock that back door._ Mickey thought absently, getting to his feet and pulling up his jeans.

"…Mickey, it was Ian." Lloyd said, a bemused smile flashed across his face until he saw the look in Mickey's eyes.

Mickey was standing in front of him, frozen. He had been buckling his belt and now his fingers hung, still curled, suspended stiffly in the air. His face revealed no emotion, but his deep blue eyes suggested that he was heartbroken. He suddenly seemed to snap out of his stupor and he met Lloyd's concerned gaze.

"Shut the fuck up faggot. He's in Iraq you dipshit." Mickey whispered, his voice contained a lethal calmness to it, and Lloyd realized that this was not a good time to be around the ex-con.

"Listen kid, I know what I saw. If you're horny sometime soon, you know how to reach me. See ya later Blue Eyes." With that, he departed from the store, vowing not to go there ever again.

Mickey sat back down on his stool behind the counter, knowing he couldn't leave if he still wanted a job. It had taken him about an hour to convince Linda that he was ready to commit to her time schedule and that he would make sure that there were no robberies; he couldn't just waltz out. _Could Ian really be back?_ He thought, tapping his index finger anxiously against the cheap plastic counter.  _Only one way to find out..._

* * *

**At the Gallagher Home**

Ian had cried into Lip for a long time, just holding his older brother. This brother who had taken a beating from Mickey without complaint, this intelligent, strong-willed boy who would always help Ian without thinking twice.

If he was honest, Ian knew exactly why he was crying. He was crying tears of shame, because he was realizing how selfish he was. He had abandoned Lip both when Monica came and when they were stuck in that shitty group home. He had left his own flesh and blood for his abusive, shitty, boyfriend. He was also crying tears for said boyfriend, but now they were tears of rage.

 _He never loved me; I was just fooling myself._ He thought, anger swelling from his stomach and resting in the hollow of his throat. Without realizing it, Ian had started to shake with rage. Lip looked at him in a concerned way, and then slapped him on the back firmly.

"This is too fucking gay for me." He said, smiling as he broke the embrace.

"Come inside the godamn house, won't you?" He called over his shoulder, strolling back up the stairs like they hadn't just bonded.

Ian lingered for a few more moments before he made up his mind: he would have to face Fiona sometime; might as well do it now. He took the stairs two at a time and walked cautiously through the open front door; Lip was nowhere to be found.

"CARL! DO NOT STAB LIAM WITH DEBBIE'S EARINGS!" He heard his sister scream as she sauntered into their living room, Liam perched innocently on her hip. Ian noticed a few Band-Aids on his arms and he chuckled softly, knowing why he had them.

She looked very thin; as if she hadn't eaten during the week he was away. Her brown hair was thrown into a greasy bun on top of her head, and her eyeliner from last night was smeared around her eyes still. She hadn't noticed him, and was just sort of staring into space, a very melancholy expression on her face.

"Hi Fiona." He said softly, peeling himself away from the open door.

She blinked at him, as if not registering who he was and why he was in her living room. Suddenly, she put Liam down in his playpen and charged over to him, anger flooding her face.

"Shit, Fi, I'm sorry!" He said, squirming backwards, afraid she would hit him. To his surprise, when she reached him, she pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Don't you ever fucking run away from me without telling me!" She shouted, and all of his guilt from before flooded back into him.

"I really fucked it up Fi, did Lip tell you?" He asked cautiously, hoping his brother had told her everything, so he wouldn't have to.

"Yeah. Mickey fucking Milkovich? Really? He was worth you almost dying?" She said, suddenly angry again.

"Well… I think it was more my idea of him. What I thought he would become. I thought he was a man, the man I could spend my life with. But now I know that he's nothing but a sex-starved, homophobic, fagoot." He spit the word out with so much anger and hate, that Fiona was appalled.

"Ian, you don't have the right to call anyone that name, not the way you just used it." She said chidingly, figuring out something must have happened.

"Jimmy still not around?" Ian asked, desperate to change the subject from his unstable and awful romance.

Fiona's eyes welled with tears and she turned away from him quickly, heading back into the kitchen.

"Nope, and even if he was I still wouldn't take his sorry ass back." She half-shouted from the sink.

 _Touchy subject,_ Ian thought.

"So when are you moving back in? I'm assuming you got yourself thrown out of the army with Lip's fake I.D?"

"Actually, I left the bus. I've been here for about a week now, I've been staying in some seedy flea-bag motel." He said, joining her in the kitchen.

"A…fucking week?" She turned suddenly, and Ian realized he shouldn't have told her that.

"Fi, I don't wanna waste your money anymore. I don't need to live here. If I stay I'm just getting in the way, using more electricity, water and gas. I know that I chip in and stuff but… it's not fair to you or to the kids. It will be easier without me." He finished, searching her face for understanding.

"Ian… shit. I can't say that what you just said isn't true, but I still don't like the idea of my baby brother living in some rent –by-the-hour motel."

"Neither do I. I'm gonna try and find a job and then I'll save up for an apartment. Maybe Mandy can move in with me and chip in with rent…" He thought aloud.

"Find a job… you mean Linda wouldn't take you back?"

"Uh… well…" Ian stuttered, not wanting to delve into the emotional turmoil he had walked in on.

"What? Ian…" She placed a hand on his shoulder, looking at him with concerned eyes.

"I kinda…"

"He kinda walked in on me fucking his ex." A familiar voice said from the doorway.


	7. Chapter 7

Die Alone: A Shameless Fanfiction

Ian and Mickey

Chapter Seven

Both pairs of blue eyes snapped up to meet, the first time they connected since the whole mess began. Fiona watched as both seemed to jolt a little, as if there were sparks flying between their gazes.

"Mickey?" Ian asked, almost in shock.

"Firecrotch." Mickey said, not a question, but a statement.

"You call him… 'Firecrotch?' Seriously? Ew." Fiona said, a disgusted look crossing her face as she learned way too much information about her brother's sex life.

Mickey tore his eyes away from Ian's beloved face, to give Fiona a classic "fuck off" face.

"What's it to you? I've seen your little boyfriend, and he looks like a fucking Portuguese Ken doll." He threatened with a classic Milkovich smirk.

"Hey, Mickey shut the fuck up!" Ian said, his anger returning to him. It wasn't fair of Mickey to take out his frustration on his sister - especially since Jimmy bailed on them.

Mickey whipped his face back to Ian so fast that his neck cracked, and both of the Gallagher's grimaced unintentionally at the sound. Mickey's heart was filled with fear; he was here to get Gallagher back, not to separate them even further. He was planning on doing whatever it took to get Ian back, no matter how hard he had to try. He had tried to live without Ian, and he just couldn't.

They shared yet another intense gaze, Mickey's wide indigo eyes pleading, while Ian's were filled with hurt.

"Did my little brother do that to your face?" Fiona queried, gesticulating to the large purple bruise that was now settling in on the right side of Mickey's face.

"Fi, I've got it from here. I'm not trying to start a fight. We're taking this back to my place, I'll be back over for dinner." Ian sighed, shooting both of them an exasperated look before walking towards the door.

"Am I coming?" Mickey asked, a hint of an innuendo glimmering in the question.

"If you want to explain to me why you're such a shitty person, by all means." Ian spat out; clearly feeling conflicted.

Mickey gave Fiona a sarcastic little salute, making sure that it was with his middle finger, before he waltzed out of the Gallagher house and into the hot August sun.

* * *

 

**At the Super 8 Motel, Room 13**

Ian and Mickey were awkwardly sitting on the floor, regarding each other. Ian couldn't help but wince every time he saw what his fist had done to Mickey, but he also got some satisfaction out of it. His mind wandered to a very similar day, the day that changed his life.

_"Just fucking admit it! Just this once. You're gay… and you love me." Ian looked up at Mickey from where he had knocked him to the ground, a slight trail of blood dribbling from his mouth. He couldn't believe that this is where it all led. Mickey would rather beat the shit out of him than admit he cared. Mickey would rather marry a fucking rapist than kiss him. Was this all he mattered to him? Because Mickey was Ian's whole world at this point: he couldn't stop loving him or worrying about him if his life depended on it._

Ian stopped the painful flashback before the boy in front of him hurt his feelings even worse.

"So… how did you and Lloyd get started?" He asked tentatively, trying not to get too mad. If Ian lost his temper again, they would never speak.

Mickey looked up at him, his right eye was mostly swollen, but he still searched Ian's face for an ounce of forgiveness. He didn't want to lie to Ian anymore, but he didn't want to turn into some emotional faggot either.

"I was supposed to break his knee caps, didn't know who it was. Found his phone and… there was a picture…" Ian's eyes widened as he remembered vaguely what he had sent to Lloyd back when they were together. He didn't know the doctor had saved it.

"I…uh… I put two and two together. I wanted to kill the cocksucker even more than when I saw you two at that bar…" Mickey jerked his eyes back to Ian, horrified that that had slipped out. It wasn't the fact that Lloyd had called him Ian's "boyfriend" that got him so angry, it was the fact that Lloyd could make Ian happy and he couldn't.

Ian gave him a sympathetic nod before his face hardened again, asking his ex-lover to continue without really saying it.

"So, I roughed him up a little bit. He was drunk: I was drunk. We banged."

He said the last word definitely, like he was not ashamed of that action.

"Did you ever bottom?" Ian asked, more than a little hurt.

Mickey was startled that this was what was important to Ian, but when he really thought about it, he guessed it made some sort of sense. Mickey had only ever bottomed with Ian, and he knew that that made their relationship almost exclusive in a fucked up way. He could tell that Ian would be heartbroken if he found out that Mickey bottomed others, because he had practically taken Mickey's virginity. Well… his gay virginity.

Mickey somberly shook his head no, plucking up the courage to say what he was about to declare, knowing it would help Ian.

"I uh…" He dropped his gaze to the stained, shitty carpet.

"I only ever wanted to bottom with you." He managed to choke out, so softly Ian thought he didn't hear those words.

"Why?" Ian asked, truly shocked that Mickey had remained faithful to him in that aspect. He knew that this was a loaded question; but he was sick of playing games with this guy. It was all or nothing, and Ian hoped Mickey would choose all.

"Because… because… I love you." Mickey breathed out the three magic little words like they were nothing, but that was all Ian needed to hear.

Within moments, the ex-con was swept up into his lover's embrace, as Ian nuzzled his cheek against his hair.

"That's all I've ever wanted from you, that's all I've ever fucking needed to hear." Ian was starting to cry again, and he didn't want to ruin this moment. He had never seen Mickey this sensitive, had never imagined Mickey saying those words to him.

Mickey grabbed his face in between his sweaty palms, his own deep blue eyes forming tears.

"I know. I'm sorry I was so weak. You fuckin' scared me so fuckin' much when you left. I was practically suicidal." He whispered, needing to tell Ian that his absence had most definitely been felt.

"I'm sorry Mickey, I'm so sorry. I just panicked; I didn't know what to do. I couldn't stay here and watch you throw your life away for some slut. I couldn't witness you pretend that what we had didn't exist. But you're the reason that I came back. It makes me sad that it wasn't for something noble, like for Debbie or for Lip, but I got off that bus because I couldn't stop thinking of you."

Mickey's tongue was suddenly pressed into Ian's mouth, violent and needy. They both melted into a kiss that was clearly something more. Ian's soft pink lips brushed against Mickey's frantically, his hand reaching lower for Mickey's ass. Mickey moaned softly at the desperate fumbling, and Ian swallowed it, wanting them to become one.

"Mickey…" he sighed, pulling apart and looking at him. His lover's eyes were full of an unreadable emotion; but if Ian had to guess it would be embarrassment. He realized that Mickey was embarrassed about what he'd said to Ian, and the kiss that had followed.

"Damn Firecrotch, it's only been a week." He rumbled into Ian's ear, sending shivers down Ian's spine and straight to his aroused cock.

"Mmm… I wanna fuck you so hard right now." He whispered, stroking the sides of Mickey's flushed face.

"You gonna sit there talkin' about it or are you gonna do something?" Mickey asked, a glimmer of lust in his eyes.

"Hmm… figure I owe it to you." Ian said as he launched himself at Mickey.

They never made it to the bed. Ian literally ripped Mickey's shirt off in anticipation, as Mickey undid the front of his pants. Ian was now pressing soft little bites onto the hollow of Mickey's neck, causing his lover to pant and moan at each nip of his teeth. Ian had finally managed to half-tear, half-throw Mickey's stained shirt to the ground. Just as Ian succeeded at his task, Mickey had managed to get his pants undone, and with a wicked grin, he jerked them smoothly to his ankles.

Ian was not wearing any underwear, and his swelling erection burst free, already leaking pre-come. Mickey stared at his partner's phallic organ; it was standing ready and alert, searching for him. He licked his lips, feeling himself fully harden at the beautiful sight.

Ian was suddenly on top of him, tackling him back into the carpet. His pants were gone within moments, and in their haste, neither had considered what was about to happen.

"Condom?" Ian gasped out, desperate for release.

"Pants pocket." Mickey whimpered, trembling.

Ian shifted off of him, snatched up his jeans and rifled through them until he found exactly what he was looking for. Thankfully this was the type that came all lubed up, so he rolled it on quickly and came back to his lover.

"Ready?" He asked, breathlessly looking into those eyes he loved so much.

"Fuck yes!" Mickey exclaimed as he went to flip himself over; he and Ian had almost never fucked facing each other; in fact the only time he could recall was at his wedding.

"No. Face to face. Wanna see what I do to you." Ian said, flipping him back over.

"Just get on me!" Mickey grunted. Ian was happy to oblige.

* * *

 

"So… do you maybe wanna come to a Gallagher dinner?" Ian asked softly, looking into Mickey's eyes.

_Ian sucked on his index and middle finger, and gazed at the hard, pale chest before him. He slipped one into Mickey's entrance, and then a second, scissoring them until he could feel Mickey stretching._

"Well I wasn't gonna fuckin' cook for you. I'm not your bitch." Mickey replied, but Ian saw through the harshness of his words.

_"You ready?" Questioned Ian, hoping Mickey was because he wouldn't last much longer._

_"Mhm." Mickey groaned in agreement, squirming underneath Ian- he was despera_ te for this.

"Stop saying that you're my bitch! You don't have to pull that shit with me." Ian sighed out, exasperated with his... lover? Friend with benefits? Ex? Ian wasn't sure what Mickey and he were, but he wanted them to be boyfriends.

"Fuck off, Firecrotch." Mickey said, pushing Ian away from him as he got up to stretch. Ian was practically drooling over the large expanse of ivory skin in front of him, laid out like a buffet.

_Ian pushed in, gently. This was a first. They had never taken sex slow, they were always in a hurry. Mickey moaned deeply underneath him, his face wincing slightly in pain._

_"You like that?" Ian whispered into his lover's ear, his hot breath sending shiver's down Mickey's spine._

_"So… big…. forgot…" Mickey groaned out, wiggling around, searching for release._

_Mickey's hands tugged at Ian's hips, pulling him as close to him as possible. Ian sighed softly, content that they were healing the wounds they had inflicted on each other._

_His strokes were slow and smooth, and he was so deep inside of Mickey that he felt like they had melted into one, they both knew that they weren't going to last for very long._

_"I… I… love…you." Ian ground out between thrusts, lost in those deep blue eyes Mickey had._

Mickey wandered around the room, clearly searching for something.

"What are you looking for?" Ian asked, amused at how absorbed Mickey was with this simple task.

"My fuckin' shirt! Where did you throw it?"

"Why are you getting dressed?" Ian inquired, scared that Mickey was going to walk out on him, that this heavenly moment between them was about to end.

"Aren't we doing some shit with your family?" Mickey shot back, looking at Ian's flushed and sweaty face.

Ian let all of his relief at this statement out in a deep sigh, his heart returning back to a normal beat.

"Mickey… you need a shower before you can come back over. I mean, just look." Ian said, trying to stifle his laughter.

"Wha…" Mickey started, but then he noticed the dried cum and sweat pasted to the majority of his chest.

"Fuck. It's your fault Gallagher!" He said, mocking Ian and his talented bedroom skills.

Ian shrugged and got up, standing to his full and impressive height, a full head above his beloved.

"Want me to help you scrub it off?" Ian asked, sweetly waggling his eyebrows.

Mickey was in the shower faster than Ian had ever seen him run.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

After a long and luxurious shower, the two boys emerged fresh and smelling of citrus. Mickey couldn't even remember the last time he'd bathed; showers just weren't his thing. But now that he had someone who would wash his back… he could get used to it. Ian was grinning from ear to ear, proud that they had managed to finally become everything that he wanted them to become. There was a problem niggling at the back of his mind; a hurricane named Svetlana.

Neither of them wanted to think about Mickey's wife or his baby, but both knew that they would have to confront it. Both got dressed, and Ian laughed when Mickey asked if he could borrow one of his shirts. Mickey's shirt had been torn quite a bit during their fit of passion, and he asked the question with a smirk and a gleam of lust in his eye.

Both boys headed out of the motel room into the warm afternoon sun. Passing the normal hookers and druggies that tended to hang around outside, they walked towards the Gallagher house.

"So what are their names?" Mickey asked, his shoulder brushing against Ian's and sending volts of electricity between them

"Huh?" Ian had been shaken out of his reverie and was somewhat confused as to whom the question referred to.

"The little dipshits you call your family, idiot." Mickey sneered, but Ian shrugged it off; that was just how his lover talked.

"Oh. Well there's Liam, he's the youngest." He started.

"The black one, right?" Mickey inquired, thinking he remembered Fiona carrying a black kid.

"Yeah."

"Then there's Carl, he's the family psychopath." He said, laughing.

"We might get along then." Mickey said, thinking maybe that was how he could bond with Ian's family.

"I wouldn't trust that little shit around anyone, even you." Ian said, but the images of Mickey and his brother that swam before his eyes made a smile creep across his face.

"Next is Debbie. She looks a lot like me, and I wonder if she has my dad too." He said quietly.

"Wait… I thought Frank was your dad." Mickey said, now confused.

"Nope. My mom fucked his brother, and that's who my dad is. Lip and I did a paternity test when Monica first showed up; it was supposed to be a joke, but we found out then." He gushed, not wanting to dwell on this painful subject for very long.

"Huh. Glad you're not directly related to that motherfucker. You're lucky." Mickey said, punching him in the arm.

"Don't I know it." The redhead muttered under his breath.

"You've obviously met Lip, Frank and Fiona." Ian continued, steeling himself as they turned onto his street. Ian was growing increasingly nervous as they approached his house: he didn't know what Mickey would do.

The ex-con waltzed up the stairs like he owned the place, a sarcastic smirk fixed on his face. Ian brought up the rear, opening the chipped door for him.

"FI! WE'RE HERE!" He called, as he was body slammed by someone. He looked down to see familiar red hair and realized Debbie was the culprit.

"Don't do that again!" She said, into the front of his shirt, her words sounding muffled and soft.

"Debs, I'm sorry that I left so suddenly. But the important thing is that I came back!" He murmured softly, stroking her back.

"You can't leave us! Lip is going to college, Frank's disappeared again, Karl has Little Hank, Fiona's depressed…. You're all that I have."

Her words hit Ian in the gut and his eyes got a little glassy. He now realized just how selfish he was- he thought he could just skip out and deal with his shit without confronting anyone. Now he knew that he had hurt everyone he loved by being so irrational, and he vowed silently to think about others more.

His eyes connected with Mickey's, and for a second, he saw a flicker of sympathy.

"Don't cry like a gaylord there, fag." He jeered, sticking his tongue into the corner of his mouth, hoping Ian saw the glint of his joke in his eyes.

Ian rolled his eyes and laughed. Debbie pulled out of his embrace and looked at Mickey in an offended way.

"Debs, this is my friend, Mickey." Ian said, tentatively introducing them.

"I know you. You're a Milkovich right? I saw you rob an ATM last week!" She exclaimed, putting two and two together.

"Yeah. You probably got a good look at my ass when I was spread all over your kitchen counter fuckin' bleeding to death." He said, sarcastically leering.

"Oh yeah…" Debbie soon moved over to the couch, captivated by the movie on T.V.

"You got a twin you didn't tell me about, Firecrotch?" Mickey gestured between Debbie and Ian, his eyes glinting with a challenge.

"You only say that because she's a ginger. Douche." Ian lightly punched Mickey on the arm, laughing.

Mickey plopped onto the couch next to Debbie, splaying his legs wide. Ian took this as an invitation to sit between them, resting his hand on Mickey's denim-clad knee. Debbie didn't blink twice, and when Lip came downstairs he just looked at them quizzically and then continued onwards.

"What are we watching, Debbie?" Ian asked, as he eyed Jake Gyllenhaal's ass. His eyes reminded him a lot of Mickey's, and Ian's crotch especially liked the shot of him washing dishes naked in a river.

"I think it's called Brokeback Mountain. Ever seen it?" Both boys shook their heads, relaxing on the slightly clean couch.

"What'd we miss?" Ian asked, somewhat interested in this movie.

"Uh… Heath Ledger is this really shy cowboy, and he and Jake are herding sheep. It's set in the 60's I think."

"Okay, cool." Both said at the same time, exchanging a glance.

"I fucking love cowboys. Real hardasses." Mickey interjected.

Both boys were stunned at the turn the movie had taken; the two cowboys turned out to be gay. Jake's character was open and accepting, but Heath's character was terrified and homophobic. This film, taken aback by how much it reflected their situation, now fascinated both boys.

Unfortunately, the two men never ended up together. In fact, one of them ended up dying because of his sexuality. Ian looked over at Mickey, trying to judge whether or not this film inspired him.

Mickey was seemingly unaffected, but Ian thought he saw a hint of… regret in Mickey's big blues. But before he had a chance to ask the ex-con, a knock sounded at the door.

"I GOT IT!" Fiona shouted from upstairs, thudding down them in a pair of black exercise shorts and a blue sports bra.

"Someone crashing this party?" Lip called from the kitchen, where he was making dinner.

Ian shrugged, now fascinated by who would be polite enough to knock on the Gallagher door. Vee and Kev never knocked, Jimmy had surpassed those types of house rules, and it was obvious that Frank had no manners at all. So who could this stranger be?

The sound of whispers and a masculine gasp sounded from the entrance, and Fiona came in followed by a tall, blonde man. He seemed to be the anti- Jimmy. Dressed in black trousers and a white dress shirt, he seemed to be a professional of some sort. His eyes were large and clear, his face clean-shaven and his hair brushed simply but stylistically on his head.

"KIDS!" Fiona shouted yet again, waiting for the thump of feet. Lip wandered in from the kitchen, a cigarette perched between his lips and a smirk on his face. Debbie automatically stood up, seemingly recognizing the man. Karl came down the stairs at a breakneck speed; Liam perched unsafely on his hip.

"Who the fuck is this?" Karl asked, shocked by the handsome man.

"Manners Karl! Gimme Liam before you drop him."

"Hi Mike!" Debbie called, walking up to him and giving him a brief hug before settling back on the couch.

"Lip, Karl, Ian." Fiona began. "This is my boss Mike Pratt. Debbie and Liam came on that camping trip with us a few weeks ago, so they already know him. He's gonna be here for dinner tonight."

Lip and Ian exchanged nervous glances across the room from each other: they could tell Fiona was fucking him. The question was- is he a rebound or is there real emotion behind it?

"Hi guys, nice to meet you!" Mike said in a friendly way, looking awkward as he stuffed his hands into his pants pockets.

Lip nodded at him and went back to the kitchen- he was making baked Mac N' Cheese for their dinner, Fiona had asked him to.

"Hi, I'm Ian." Ian thrust out his hand and shook Mike's firmly, apprehension in his eyes.

"Nice to meet you Ian. Glad to hear you're home."

So this random guy knew Ian had bailed. Ian's cheeks colored in embarrassment as he went to introduce Mickey. He turned to find the Milkovich standing behind him, glaring at Mike in a strangely possessive way. Was Mickey really jealous of him? He was totally not Ian's type, and definitely straight, so it was unlikely.

Mickey was fuming. He saw the blush on Ian's cheeks, the way he was shaking the man's hand… and it made him see red.

"And this is my…." Ian had no idea what to call Mickey.

"Friend." Mickey finished, his tone cutting through the awkward silence like an axe.

"BULLSHIT! HE'S HIS BOYFRIEND!" Lip called from the kitchen, and everything seemed to slow down. Mickey saw red, his hands clenched into two tight fists.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP LIP!" Ian shouted desperately, trying not to cause a scene that would push Fiona's new beau out the door. Ian forgot about Mike for a sec, and moved over to Mickey.

"It's okay Mickey. Lip's an ass. Forget it." He said calmly, rubbing his calloused and tan hands against Mickey's porcelain upper arms.

"Motherfucker, you're lucky you took my sister back. " Mickey grumbled towards Lip, and Ian was taken aback.

Did he hear that right? Lip and Mandy were… together again? How could that be?

"I don't really give a shit if you dudes are friends or… something more. Whatever floats your boat." Mike said, smiling amiably.

_I already like him more than Jimmy. He's not trying to look at my cock now that he knows I'm gay. God that was awful when Jimmy had that breakdown and couldn't keep his eyes to himself. All because I fucked his dad._

Lip's call of "Soup's on" and the scampering of all the Gallaghers interrupted Ian's thought process.

Lip opened the banged up kitchen door and called outside "VEE, KEV! GET IN HERE WHILE THE COOKIN'S HOT!"

And a few moments later, Kev and Vee waltzed in, holding hands and laughing. Kev was holding a whole case of Grey Goose in his hand and Vee had a joint between her lips. The Gallaghers definitely knew how to party.

Fiona sashayed down and was now dressed in a Nirvana tee shirt and blue jeans.

After a raucous dinner where Mickey and Karl fought over the last serving of the Mac N' Cheese, it was time for the younger kids to go to bed.

Mickey glanced anxiously at the clock on the kitchen stove. It read 11:08. _Shit. I told Svetlana I'd be back by midnight. Nix that._ He looked at Ian, who was carrying an asleep Liam.

"Hey, Firecrotch!" He said, catching Ian's attention.

"Sh!" The ginger pressed a single finger to his lips, then pointed to the sleeping toddler in his arms with an amused smile.

 _I'm gonna be the shittiest dad ever._ Mickey thought glumly.

"Shit, sorry. Can I use your phone?" He whispered, color coming to his cheeks because of his apology.

"Sure." Ian shrugged and handed his cell over, tossing Liam over his shoulder and heading upstairs.

 _Did Mickey fucking Milkovich just apologize to me? Hell must have frozen over._ He thought, distracted by Liam stirring.

He carried the little one up into his old room, placing him gently in his crib.

"Sleep tight buddy. Pretty soon you're gonna need a big boy bed." He kissed his brother's forehead and gently laid a pale blue blanket over him. A flashback hit him like a freight train.

_"Honey, can you go to the craft store?" Monica asked, her pregnant belly sticking out of a crop top._

_"Why?" Ian asked, confused. He was thirteen and his voice cracked. Damn puberty._

_"I need some more yarn for this blanket. We want your baby brother to be nice and warm during the winter months, right? " Ian hated it when she talked down to him. He wasn't a fucking kid anymore, and he had certainly witnessed more than most kids his age._

_"Okay mom. Do you have any money?" He knew it was a dumb question, but he couldn't stop himself from asking it._

_"Oh… uh… no…" She trailed off, tears welling in her eyes._

_"Ma, it's fine! I'll just steal it, relax." He kissed her smelly forehead as he walked out of the house, hoping she didn't light up while he was gone._

_When he came back, Monica was nowhere to be found._

_"MOM! I'M BACK!" He shouted to the seemingly empty living room. He glanced around, the blanket seemed to be completed, as it was lying on the couch where she had been._

_Shit. Where was she?_

_"MONICA?" He shouted into the depths of the house, all was quiet. As he climbed the stairs, he heard a small whimper._

_Debbie._

_He took the stairs two at a time and burst into his little sister's room. "Mommy… calm down." He heard Debbie whisper, fear in her voice. He burst through the door and found Monica on the ground, shaking uncontrollably and banging her head on the floor._

_"I'm unlovable. I'm awful. I don't want to listen to you anymore. GO AWAY!" She repeated the four statements over and over again, emphasizing each period with a thump of her head._

_"MOM!" Ian shouted, he was concerned for the baby. Monica was having one of her episodes and he had never needed to deal with her by himself._

_"Debbie, it's gonna be okay. I need you to go to the kitchen and call an ambulance, all right. Don't worry, Monica will be fine."_

_As he bent down to check on his mother, he noticed that between her thighs was wet._

_Did she piss herself? Wouldn't be the first time. Wait… she's due in a week. SHIT. Her water broke._

_When the ambulance came, they carted her off by herself while he called Fiona. Fiona and Frank came back with a baby, a black baby. Obviously not Frank's. He didn't see his mother for a year and a half. But he saw that blanket every single night afterwards._

_"_ You okay bro?" He heard Lip's voice from behind him.

"Yeah, just fine. How's everything down there?"

Lip looked at him, sensing there was more to the situation, but dropping it for now.

"Same old same old. Kev brought some of the left over pot, Karl's in trouble because he tried to light up. Debbie is reading in the corner. Vee is drunk and twerking. Mickey is rolling joints. Fiona and Mike are totally fucking in the bathroom right now…" His voice trailed off, amused at his quaint little family life.

"So… why isn't Mandy here?" Ian asked, concerned for his best friend.

"She was busy tonight. Something about watching Mickey's wife."

Ian flinched at the last word in that sentence. He didn't like it at all.

"I take it you guys made up?" he queried, unsure of what Lip's romantic life was like. It was clear he still loved Karen.

"Kinda. We're just in a FWB relationship right now… I don't think I could handle more."

"FWB?" Ian queried, lost.

Lip smirked at him and said "friends with benefits," softly.

"Ah… right." Ian was feeling awkward.

"Anyways, Mickey sent me up here to tell you that he will beat your ass if you don't get downstairs pronto."

Ian grinned a million dollar smile, happy that his "FWB" was integrating well with his family.

* * *

 

Mickey and Ian shared a bottle of Grey Goose, passing it back and forth. Within fifteen minutes, the bottle was empty and both were pretty drunk. They had each smoked a joint and were feeling very relaxed.

For some reason, everyone was dancing and grinding but them. Debbie and Karl were jumping around like lunatics to the thumping bass, Vee and Kev were all over each other as usual, Fiona was dancing sensually and Mike was drunkenly trying to keep up. Lip was sort of bopping around, definitely high on something other than the weed.

Ian recognized the beginning of a song he liked and he looked over at a very drunk and happy Mickey. The ex-con seemed to have relaxed considerably.

 _Wanna dance?_ He mouthed in his direction, as Fiona turned the song up.

Mickey shrugged as he rose to his feet and Ian grinned.

 _Fuck, I love it when the adorable bastard does that._ Mickey thought, pleased that Ian was happy.

They shuffled onto the makeshift dance floor as the song flowed through them, picking up the beat as the lyrics kicked in.

_"I know you've suffered_  
 _But I don't want you to hide_  
 _It's cold and loveless_  
 _I won't let you be denied_

Ian ground his hips against Mickey's ass, lost in his own little world. He thought Mickey would pull away, but he greedily pushed back. He leaned over to Mickey's ear and licked his earlobe.

"Ahhh." His lover sighed; pushing back harder and Ian felt himself stiffen.

"Listen to these lyrics baby, I want you to." He started to gyrate his hips into Mickey's soft butt, mindful of the still-painful bullet wound.

_Soothing_  
 _I'll make you feel pure_  
 _Trust me_  
 _You can be sure_

_Trust me Mickey: give yourself over to me._ Ian silently begged, quickening his pace and feeling his groin react.

_I want to reconcile the violence in your heart_  
 _I want to recognize your beauty's not just a mask_  
 _I want to exorcise the demons from your past_  
 _I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart_

Mickey was too drunk to care about how gay it was that they were dancing and Ian was giving him this little present of a song. All he cared about were the lyrics.

_You trick your lovers_  
 _That you're wicked and divine_  
 _You may be a sinner_  
 _But your innocence is mine_

_Please me_  
 _Show me how it's done_  
 _Tease me_  
 _You are the one_

Ian turned Mickey around, holding him firmly in his arms and started to kiss him. Slowly, sensually. Their tongues moved in beat with the drums and the bass, their bodies still throbbing and humming with the music.

_I want to reconcile the violence in your heart_  
 _I want to recognize your beauty's not just a mask_  
 _I want to exorcise the demons from your past_  
 _I want to satisfy the undisclosed desires in your heart_

 

The song ended and they pulled apart, eyes sparkling drunkenly at each other. Ian was never more in love with Mickey than he was at this moment. Both were hard and panting, wanting more. Ian was confused when another song didn't start up, and when he glanced back he realized everyone was staring at them.

Kev gave a low whistle and slow clapped sarcastically. "Wow guys, you really need to get a room."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is "Undisclosed Desires" by Muse


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: NC-17 Chapter

"So re'we gonna walk all the way back to y'r motel Firecrotch? Cuz I dunno if I c'n make it…" Mickey slurred, leaning against the couch for support. He was drunk off his ass, he could barely see straight.

Ian flashed him an amused smile: he wasn't as drunk. Usually Mickey could drink him under the table, but tonight was different. He wasn't really sure what made tonight so special, but he never wanted this night to end.

Before Ian had a chance to respond, Fiona grabbed him by the arm. He swivled his head to meet her gaze drunkenly, and he saw all the sisterly love swimming in her eyes.

"Ian, you two can crash in your room. Just don't wake up Liam or Carl." She said softly, flushing slightly. He knew that this had to be a big step for her, accepting Mickey and him as a couple.

"Thanks Fi." He said, pecking her on the cheek and taking Mickey by the elbow.

"Let's get you into a bed you drunk." He whispered in his ear as he steered the leering Mickey towards the stairs.

"Who're you callin' a drunk? I had 's much 's yooouu did!" Mickey slurred indignantly.

"Shut up and get into bed! You're gonna wake up the whole house!" Ian hissed when they reached the top of the stairs.

"Mmkay." And with that, Mickey toppled face-first onto Ian's rumpled mattress.

His snores were already filling the room when Ian came back from his shower. His buzz from the joint was wearing off, and he really wasn't that drunk anymore.

This was a sight he thought he'd never see: a sleepy, slightly disheveled Milkovich lying stretched across _his_ bed like it was his own. Mickey's dark hair was sans-gel today, and it poked up in a bedraggled mess. His eyelashes were casting shadows across his cheeks, the dark edges mingling with his five o'clock shadow. His deep, restful breaths were halted with the occasional snore, and his body had never looked more relaxed.

Ian's mind drifted back to the evening's events: the amiable dinner, getting drunk, dancing… it was too good to be true. It felt like they were finally a couple, finally together. Ian was so happy he could hardly stand it; he recognized that good things never lasted long for Gallaghers. But all of his romantic reminiscing had caused some serious issues for him: he had a spectacular boner.

"Well you're useless." He sighed, brushing Mickey's hair back from his forehead while he climbed into bed beside him. The ex-con mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "pancakes" before he rolled onto his side, fast asleep. Ian shook his head and chuckled, and nervously glanced at Carl's bunk. _He's out like a light. He thought. I guess I could risk it; I can't take this much longer._

And with that, the ginger slipped off his boxers and freed his member from its constraints. Clasping a hand around it, he began to slowly stroke himself. Focusing on their shower earlier in the day, he lost himself in bliss.

* * *

 

_The click of the bathroom door behind him alerted Mickey to Ian's presence. The dingy shower was pumping streams of slightly cloudy hot water onto him, releasing the tension in his shoulders._

_"Need some help washing your back?" Ian's voice whispered huskily into his ear, his arousal pressing against Mickey's backside._

_"I don't need any fuckin' help! Besides, there isn't any soap in this flea-bag motel anyways."_

_"I brought some with me…"_

_"Well I don't need it!" Mickey grumbled, hating the idea of being totally clean. He wore his dirt like armor; if he looked tough on the outside, people might think he was tough on the inside. And knowing Ian, it was probably some gay-ass floral shit or something. He didn't want to get out of the shower smelling like a bitch!_

_"I like you when you're clean." Ian growled, pressing his erection more firmly against him._

_Mickey let out a low moan, the slapping of the water drowning it out. Suddenly a dull clunk reached his ears, and he was about to ask what it was when Ian said something that sent shivers up his spine._

_"Pick up the soap." Ian lips murmured against the back of his ear, sending shockwaves down to his groin._

_"The fuck you talking about Gallagher?"_

_"I asked you to pick up the soap. Don't make me ask you again."_

_Mickey's whole body shook; he was hopelessly aroused by this game. He turned around to look Ian in the eye, tilting his head slightly upwards. His eyebrows were raised expectantly, but his eyes were aflame with desire. Mickey stuck out his tonge and licked a soft trail down Ian's slender and muscular neck, savoring his unique taste. He loved to torture Gallagher like this, to draw out the pleasure until both of them were leaking pre-cum and panting for more._

_Then, he turned abruptly and reached down to pick up the white bar of soap. Just as his fingers grasped the smooth surface, he felt a hand cup his balls._

_"Oh." His surprised exclamation rushed past his lips, and he could tell that Ian wasn't going to be gentle._

_"I wanna fuck your ass so hard baby."_

_Mickey was trembling; he had never felt more exposed than he did now. His pasty ass was thrust heavenwards; his head and arms down by his feet. He had very little control of this situation, and secretly he loved that._

_"I want you to Firecrotch."_

_Ian growled behind him and rubbed his straining penis between his cheeks, the friction tantalizing._

_"We're out of condoms. Are you clean? Did you fuck anyone other than Lloyd?" Ian's questions were desperate and rushed; he needed to know this answer._

_"Nobody else. Went to the clinic last month and I was clean. Are you?"_

_"Fuck yes."_

_Ian thrust his hand in front of Mickey's face, bending over so that his whole front was pressed against the ex-con's back._

_"Spit." He commanded, waggling his fingers playfully._

_Once his hand was firmly lubricated, he brought it to his pulsing cock and rubbed it._

_Within seconds, he was thrusting into Mickey's ass, going all the way to the hilt and then pulling almost all the way out. Both were mumbling nonsense words, mostly expletives. Mickey was so close to coming he thought he would within the first few strokes. Ian seemed to sense this and just pushed in harder and faster, slamming into him._

_The pain was beginning to get overwhelming for Mickey; his ass was so vulnerable in this position. Just as he was about to ask Ian to slow the pace, Gallagher found his prostate._

_"OH FUCK!" He screamed in ecstasy, barely reeling from the first hit when the next one came._

_Mickey bit his lower lip, trying to contain his overjoyed grunts as he rocked back to meet Ian's sure strokes._

_Ian could feel the edge drawing closer, and he called out in warning just before he came. The two boys reached their climaxes in unison, spiraling into the depths of lust, as time seemed to stretch onwards._

* * *

 

The next morning, Ian rolled over to be greeted with another body in his bed.

In a drowsy daze he snuggled closer to the only source of warmth in the room. He wrapped his contented arms around the stocky boy, burying his nose into the crook of his neck and twining their legs together. He

drifted out of consciousness just as Mickey opened his eyes.

 _Where am I?_ Mickey looked around, confused. He was more than a little hung-over, and still wasn't ready to face the day.

 _mm… Gallagher feels good._ With that thought, following his previously unanswered one, he attempted to sleep it off.

"BOYS!" Fiona shouted, pounding on the door.

"I HOPE YOU'RE DECENT!" She called again as she entered. _Why the fuck are they still in bed? It's two in the afternoon for Christ's sake!_

"Whaa?" Ian mumbled, burrowing closer into Mickey's neck. Mickey needed longer to react, and his eyes fluttered momentarily before they closed again and he slept once more.

There was one thing to say about Milkoviches: "sleep it off" was their family motto.

Fiona stood in the doorway looking like a fish out of water. Was her brother snuggling with a thug? She rolled her eyes, plopped a hamper for their laundry on the floor and walked out to find some breakfast.

"Ian?" Mickey asked in a surprisingly vulnerable voice.

"Mmh?"

"I uh… just… I'm fucking sorry."

"S'ok Mick. Now shut the fuck up and let me sleep this off." Ian grumbled, for forgiveness had taken root in his heart the moment their eyes first met.

"I gotta go." Mickey said while he sat up on the bed and grabbed his clothes.

"Okay…" Ian was already back asleep and Mickey sneaked a glance at his handsome friend, slumbering in peace.

* * *

 

Mickey's ratty old sneakers slapped against the afternoon pavement as he rounded the corner and turned onto his street. The El lumbered past, stirring the smells of the city into his nostrils and churning the warm afternoon air at him.

 _Well let's see where the bitch is today!_ He thought glumly about his wife while he pushed the door in.

The house was pitch black, the stink of never being cleaned was extremely apparent today. There was something spilled on the floor, and when Mickey bent down to get a closer look at it he realized it was vomit.

"MANDY!" He called, pissed that she hadn't cleaned it while she was "babysitting" his whore.

There was no answer.

"Cut the shit, get your ass out here and clean up this mess!" He yelled again, only slightly less harsh. Something was definitely wrong here, he could feel it.

"LANA!" He called, not wanting to pronounce her catastrophe of a name in its entirety.

Again, a wall of silence met him.

He combed through every room of the house, the taste of bile was filling his mouth. Something was very, very wrong here. Neither his sister nor his wife were home, but it looked like there had been some kind of scuffle in the bathroom. The shower curtain was torn, the toiletries were knocked off the counter and strewn all over the place. There was an empty bottle of pills by the toilet, and there was a spatter of blood on the floor.

Mickey whipped out his cell and punched in his sister's number- no answer. He tried Svetlana's number- straight to voicemail.

So Mickey called the one person who could help him with this situation- Marcellus.

"Yo Mick! What can I do for ya?" His gruff boss's voice said enthusiastically.

"Marcellus, my sister and my wife are missing. You have any fuckin' idea what might've happened to them?" Mickey was bottling his rage, biting the words through his clenched teeth.

"Shit!" Marcellus whispered.

"What aren't you telling me? No more fucking games, you give me the fucking truth right fucking now!"

"Well.. uh.. we're up shit creek Mick. I ordered a hit on some punk-ass who got drunk and punched one of my men…"

"Give me the short version!" Mickey barked, cutting him off.

"I AM! Anyways, this kid gets offed, in not the most pleasant fashion if you catch my drift." He rambled on, finally getting to the point.

"Well his dad happens to be this big mob boss, and I don't exactly make it hard for people to track me, what with the brand and all…"

"So the mob wants YOU. Why the fuck would they hurt ME?" Mickey was getting more and more antsy just thinking about this.

"I might have threatened them with my manpower. You aren't my only employee. It might be good for you to fucking remember your place, if you know what I mean."

"I quit. I'm done. I don't want your help. I'll handle this by myself."

Without waiting for a response, Mickey ended the call, grabbed a baseball bat and exited into the desolate and windswept streets of Chicago.


End file.
